The Great Sacrifiece
by elibdally1
Summary: Hermione hated being here in the dark corridors with the one person she loathed the most. She hated them for making her do this. ‘Victory requires great sacrifice’ they would tell her... VERY DARK!


_**Disclamer**: J.K. Rowling and WB are the only owners of Harry Potter and Co. I make no money posting this fiction. This is just to pass time...I promise._

_**Author's Note: **This story is for **ADULTS**. It will contain torture, humiliation, nc, death. This fiction was originally written in Russian. I thought it was so good that I decided to translate to the English speaking audience._

_**Beta**: Gryffindorclutz_

_**The Great Sacrifice**_

_~*~Past~*~_

_**Seventh Year of Hogwarts**_

A feminine shadow quietly slithered in the corridors and Draco stood still, listening to the hallowed breaths and the measured footsteps. Someone was trying to cross the corridor with urgency. Long wavy hair, hot angry gaze, slightly opened lips…

Jumping from the dark corner, Malfoy grabbed a feminine shoulder and pressed a fuming Hermione Granger to the cold castle wall.

"Would you look at this, just my luck…" the Slytherin whispered into her ear as he gently bit her earlobe.

"You and your dirty tricks again, Malfoy! Will you ever be tiered of them?" Hermione asked in the most nonchalant voice she could master before hitting Draco hard in the stomach with her elbow making him take a few steps back.

"The moment you will stop fighting me is the moment I will stop playing my dirty little tricks," he answered with a smirk.

They both knew that that would never happen. Draco knew that the feisty Gryffindor would never stop resisting him just as Hermione knew that if she did stop resisting, he would pursue her even harder, never letting go.

"You have what I need?" She asked, getting irritated.

Hermione hated being here in the dark corridors with the one person she loathed the most. She hated _them_ for making her do this. _'Victory requires great sacrifice'_ they would tell her. The only question in her mind was why _she_ was the sacrificial lamb to this self-assured sadistic serpent. The answer, however, was burning in his mercury-colored eyes. Yes, the Slytherin bastard wanted her so much that it became a weapon in her hands.

He never once tried to hide the fact that she made him feel what no other witch made him feel; not since the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was arrested and he was the head of the Malfoy line for the time being. He was also under the service of the Dark Lord. Despite his failure to kill Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort forgave Draco. He, after all, did his part in letting the death eaters into Hogwarts, the one place no death eater was able to penetrate before. Moreover, since no one else in school had proof of Draco's conspiracy, the Slytherin was allowed to comeback to finish his final year of Hogwarts.

There were so many attacks on the civilians in the past few months. The death eaters would strike at any moment in time, creating chaos and mayhem among the wizarding and muggle population. Aurors were being slaughtered and the decrease of these magical protectors stared to become very palpable.

It was during the first trip to Hogsmeade when Hermione was waiting alone for Harry and Ron to come out of the sports shop that Draco covered Hermione's mouth with his leather-clad hand and pulled her back into an empty alley. Not giving the lioness a chance to fight him off, Draco pushed Hermione against the brick wall and assaulted the young witch, slanting his mouth against hers repeatedly. When the oxygen became once more a priority, Draco pulled back and stared at the shocked brown eyes of Hermione Granger.

"I want you." Draco stated hotly. He bent his head once more and licked the swell of Hermione's lips, first lower then upper, savoring the exotic taste of the Gryffindor princess.

Rational hit Hermione like a ton of bricks and she pushed the shameless wizard away from her. "What the bloody hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded when the trepidation slowed down a bit. Wiping her wet lips with the back of her hand, she asked, "Did I hear you right?"

"Your hearing is fine," he answered frostily. Pushing himself away from the wall, Draco stared at Hermione like a starving man. She looked so hot to him, so arousing. Merlin, he was going out of his mind from wanting her so long and not being able to have her. He wanted to taste her lips again and just as he closed the distance between them, he heard the voices of her best friends, talking amongst themselves just behind the corner of where he saw Hermione.

There was no time to waste, so Draco proposed, whispering hotly in her: "If you want information on You-Know-Who, you will meet me in the Astronomy tower after your rounds tonight." With that said, Draco pulled her face to his and stole another kiss before disapirating away with a loud thunderclap, alerting the other Gryffindors to the mayhem in the alley.

That night Hermione told the Order of the Phoenix what happened in that alley and what Draco wanted from her in exchange for the information that the light side was desperately seeking. The order did not react as she thought they would. There were no threats or curses in Draco's direction, not even form the hot-tempered Ron. It seemed that the Order had found an answer to their questions. With Hermione's help and Draco's weakness, they may just get the upper hand in this war.

And so it went on from that night onward. Draco would seek her out when he had something of value to give her and in return, she let him kiss her and touch her. She felt as dirty and low as the Knockturn Alley whore did. She actually felt it befit her since all this started in an alley.

"Well?" She asked him again, demanding. "Tell me what I need to hear." He took one-step and then another toward her. "Another step, Malfoy, and I will have to use my powers." Hermione whispered gruffly, making Draco shiver at hearing her sexy voice. She was enjoying her power over him.

"Another word and no amount of power will save you!" Draco whispered back carefully as he slowly placed the palm of his hand against the wall, adjacent to Hermione's face. He felt his heart skip its bit when Hermione's eyes widened with anger. "Do not threaten me, because we both know that you will lose."

"Yes, but I also think you won't come out of it the victor. You think that your reputation won't take a little tumble?" Hermione asked gently as she desperately tried to hold her anger in check. Gods, but how she hated this person. It felt like that, if he would touch her, she would murder him. Still, she needed him…

Draco's thin fingers slowly touched Hermione's flaming cheek and he felt her warm, labored breath against his damp palm. "My angry kitten," whispered Draco humorously.

Hermione's shoulders slowly relaxed. They were finally at the point of trade.

"Alright, Malfoy," she breathed. "What do you need?"

"You know what I need," Draco whispered hoarsely as he pressed the entire length of his body to Hermione's, letting her feel his rigid arousal. "You know exactly what I need, isn't that right?"

"Listen, I am very tired today, and do not really want to be bothered by you!"

That was low insult. Every witch that he set his eyes on in the past felt lucky to have the attention of Draco Malfoy. Every witch…but this witch. Hermione was as cold as ice, very independent and self-assured. No matter, she was still the only witch that he wanted, the only one that could make his blood boil and sing to the highest of heights. The damn irony….

"One kiss…and I will let you go, Granger." He smirked even though his eyes swam in the angry see. Her insults were unforgivable. "I am not asking you for anything more than that. For now…"

Looking at his sliver eyes, the witch understood that she had no choice. The sacrifices have to be made.

"Alright," she finally agreed dryly. "But hurry up. I want to sleep!"

Those words really did a number on Malfoy. He growled, hitting his fist against the wall. Hermione did not even blink as she stared at the tall bastard who was usually cold and emotionless.

"Please do not start with this juvenile drama, Draco." She said steadily as she slicked her hands up against his Slytherin robes, over his tense shoulders and behind his neck, rubbing her fingers against the feverish flash. "Do not waste my time with empty talk."

And stop wasting time he did. Draco assaulted Hermione's soft lips with such might that the force of the impact caused the Gryffindor princess to hit her head against the wall. He was not a gentle lover. He was a hunter and took what he wanted without a second thought.

Just as Hermione thought, the Slytherin gave her more than friendly pack. He slithered his tongue into her mouth, enjoying the reflex of her own tongue. Finally the forceful kiss gentled into a light caress, slowly igniting Hermione's own need. Damn it all to hell but Draco Malfoy really knew the art of love making well.

Slowly, as though it was too painful for him to do, Draco pulled back and looked at Hermione's half lidded eyes. "Did you change your mind?" He whispered gruffly at the same time as the palm of his hand slipped under the cotton school blouse that he was able to unbutton during their kiss.

Gently biting her lip, Hermione just looked at Draco's aroused gaze for a few seconds, and then lightly touched the blond tresses with the tips of her fingers. She rose on the tips of her toes so she could be on the same eye level with the wizard. Her breath caressed his cheeks, promising everything and nothing at all at the same time.

"I will never change my mind, because I loathe you with every fiber of my being." Hermione finally answered before touching her lips to his, sealing the promise on some level. Hermione always did like to have the last word.

Then she left him standing there, in the cold, barely lit corridor, alone.

His fuming eyes watched as she turned the corner before he tightly mumbled to himself. "Do not worry, Hermione. I will find your weakness, and then we will talk…

This was a game… Hermione knew it, saw the way he threw his dice.

This was pleasure… It was thin and barely palpable. It slithered about the skin, entering though before finally penetrating the bloodstream.

This was just the beginning.

Hermione stood under the cold stream of the shower, crying. She hated herself for wanting more… Hated him because she knew he was a killer no matter what anyone else said. She hated _them_ for making her do this. She was the great sacrifice…they all knew that.

This was a game… Hermione knew it, saw the way they threw their dice.

This was pleasure… It was thin and barely palpable. It slithered about the skin, entering though before finally penetrating the bloodstream.

This was just the beginning. The beginning of an end.

**~*~**_Present_**~*~**

_**Ten Years Later**_

Have you ever observed how slow the sun sets beyond the horizon or the way the last rays of sunlight illuminate the earth, becoming dull and dark?

There is a moment in time where everything around is so bright and an instant later… an instant later the night befalls…

Now, it has happened again, the late hours engulfing the last rays of light, bringing the world to darkness. And then the nightmares come…

Now, Hermione, could probably say that you could experience horror only once in life, and the rest is only fright that substitutes everything else. That was the only time she felt true horror.

She did not understand what was going on. She heard wild laughter behind her. Unintelligent, light-blue eyes of her husband opened wide and Hermione could see herself in them. She could see her unmanageable hair, her horror wide eyes…

Somebody's hands constantly kept touching her body but no sound escaped from her throat. Maybe the witch stopped hearing her desperate screams awhile now or maybe she just did not scream. It was not important anyway.

She knew that she could not run away anymore. She heard the footsteps behind her and then a victorious laughter. They caught her…

And now here she was, hardly understanding what was really happening but also knew somehow, that she was finished. They will probably kill her. She was a muggleborn…a mudblood after all.

So, on they came, again and again. Nightmares, dreams, people…

And then _he_ came…

Hermione was sitting on the ground, pressing herself against the wall and feeling the cold seep through her skin, making her body tremble with all its might. The heart slowed its beat.

The iron gate of the dungeon opened noisily and there at the door stood a person that Hermione had not seen before. He was tall, had pale skin, and had one of the most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen.

The wizard just stood and stared. He was dressed in long black robes adorned with silver buttons. His hair was dark, almost reaching his shoulders. His lips were opened slightly as though getting ready to say something softly.

"Did you also come to celebrate?" Hermione asked tartly. She did not rise from the floor. Why would she? If this was another rapist, than what was the point? A rapist does not care whether his victim is sitting or standing. Unless of course he was not a… Forget it. Why would she ever think that someone from this god-forsaken world would try to help her?

The stranger did not even move as he observed the witch so intently, trying to get within her soul and heart. A heart that was empty because of ruthless killers and rapists. A soul that was lost to any light or happy emotions, only filled with dread and hate.

**What are you feeling now?** A whisper entered her mind suddenly and Hermione jerked from surprise.

"Indifference, emptiness, pain," Hermione answered quietly and then turned her face away from the intense blue eyes of the stranger. She preferred to watch the rat that lazily totters about her cell instead of watching the strange wizard.

**So you are resigned?**

"To die?" She asked in return before answering her own question. "I already know that I will not be speared. The time is drawing near."

**I am not talking about death but of your husband…**

Against her will, the heart began to beat faster. Goddess, again the images began their assault. Again, she saw the wide horror-filled eyes.

"What of him? He is dead and there is nothing that can be done for that." She said nonchalantly, although she was suffocating inside at the horrible memories.

Something warm touched her hand and Hermione raised her head.

**Would you like to forget everything?** There was something uncomfortable about the way his eyes ate her up.

"No! My memories are a part of me," Hermione shook her head as she replied.

His hand slowly clasped her wrist, just above the heavy shackles, and pulled, making Hermione stand up. His second arm clasped her waist, making the chains rattle.

**Let us play a game? **

"A game?"

"**Duh… duh duh duh duh duh…" **The stranger's voice rang out in the cell, as he spun her into a slow muggle waltz. As he continued to spin her around and around, the chains twined about her body, cutting out some of the airway.

When he finally stopped she mumbled, "Who are you?" Her body ached as the mettle chins hugged her body.

All of a sudden, it felt that the temperature in the cold cell dropped even lower.

His warm hand touched her cheek and Hermione's tears flowed around the stranger's fingers. She could not move. Could not breathe. She just could not…

"Who are you?" Hermione asked a little louder, observing how gently the stranger touched her face, her neck, her shoulders...

Her body hurt from the cold pierced her skin. Slowly rationality was leaving her mind. Somewhere she heard a loud bang as the dungeon gate opened hard. A grim shadow of a dementor appeared in the cell, stretching its paws and claws. It seemed that death itself was trying to suffocate her.

The stranger just stood and observed as the battered witch, fell on her knees right in front of him.

"WHO ARE YOU?!?" Screeched Hermione as she held onto her head and feeling her body rip apart from the inside. Sadness, horror, loneliness, darkness…finally…

**~~~***~~~**

**Author's note:** Hope you liked the first chapter. This was originally written in the Russian language by a talented author: Ariana, about six years ago. I cannot get in touch with the author, but decided to go ahead anyway and translate this brilliant fiction to the English population. If you want the site or the original author's information, I will be more than happy to provide it.

Hope you liked it.

**TBC…**


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